


Emet/WOL Week

by yggsassil



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: F/M, Heavy Angst, I Made Myself Cry, Named Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Not Beta Read, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sin Eater Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-17
Updated: 2020-09-17
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:14:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26509594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yggsassil/pseuds/yggsassil
Summary: Fills for the Emet/WOL week challenge. Some are fluffy, some emotionally destroyed me.Day 1: Light/Dark
Relationships: Solus zos Galvus | Emet-Selch/Warrior of Light
Kudos: 7





	Emet/WOL Week

**Author's Note:**

> i really did not mean for this to be so fucking huge. also i never did eureka so idk jack about emme, lol. song referenced is [ever and a day by afi](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AL_lQ9YJt2E)
> 
> thanks to [@LilacsandFreedom](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilacsandFreedom/pseuds/LilacsandFreedom) as always
> 
> cw: major character death, lots and lots and *lots* of angst, boss mechanics in really flowery dialogue

You were right.

You were always right, of course, right about everything--right about Eorzea, right about Myste, right about how you’re nothing more than a tool to all and everyone. Not a person, not even a face, just a title--Warrior.

You were right, Fray.

_ A choked-off whimper of pain, the sound of bones cracking, the eerie silence of simulated space. _

Cool hands, cooler than your own, burning and overflowing with Light as they are touch your cheeks--cool gauntlets, cool fingertips, cool skin. You’re so cold, Fray. Why? Is it because you are a creation? Because you are me? Because we are the same, you and I? My rage and despair at everyone and everything? Why are you so cold?

Please hold me, Fray.

_ A wet tearing sound of wings; bright, brilliant white like an ivory wedding, and the distant hiss of “what in the name of Zodiark—”  _

Oh Myste. Myste, Myste, Myste. Just as cold as Fray, so cold; even if you are just a creation, it’s so good to—

_ A wet cough that splices off into a loud, pained gasp; tears on skin as feather push through wounds. _

So good to have someone, anyone here, please, it hurts, I’m so sorry Fray, Myste, you were right all along.

_Another cough, feathers stained white with Light splashing onto the ground._ _No more words come._

-

“What  _ are _ you?” The ascian asks furiously; he tries to pry you apart from her, but your arms clasped around Cirina’s shoulders never falters. She shudders again in your hold; you can feel her pain, of course you can; even if she can make no noise you know of the agony coursing through her. You feel it as a reflection; both you and Myste do.

The ascian scowls at you two, gritting his teeth; his head snaps over to where Myste is stroking Cirina’s hair in the only way he can think of comforting her. “What  _ are _ you?” he repeats and you can hear the alarm starting to lace his voice. Cirina tries to raise her arms to wrap around you as well, but they fall limply down--there are countless small slices along her arms, wings tearing their way through her skin. The ascian flinches away from her; Myste says something softly to her and Cirina nods her head shakily.

The ascian pulls away; there is panic in his voice, in his eyes, in the twist of his frown. “Creations, you’re-- _ creations, _ but—” His head snaps to where Cirina’s eyes are beginning to droop (she’s so tired, you can feel her exhaustion in every part of your body) and he recoils further. “You can’t be, you  _ can’t _ be—” He grits his teeth and reaches out; he waves a hand and a wind-like force pushes you and Myste away from her. You raise your arm to shield yourself from the wind and when you look up, the ascian is holding Cirina’s lolling head in his hands and whispering to her.

The ascian wraps both hands around her horns and rests his forehead against hers and as you slowly approach them you hear him whisper, “Azem, Azem, please,  _ please.” _ He doesn’t even react when you stop beside him; you can see— _ feel _ him channeling dark aether into her, as if to combat the light corrupting her soul. But it’s too late, of course it is—Cirina is fading, so tired, and when you raise your gauntlet to the sky it too is fading into aether. The ascian says something else, his voice cracking, to her but your hearing is disappearing and you just...want to sleep. Myste collapses to the ground with a distant thud and as your eyes begin to droop, you see his form begin to disappear into flecks of aether. The ascian shouts and you can almost make it out, almost, but you fall to your knees with weariness; there is no strength left inside of you, no strength left to fight or even to stand. You gather what little strength remains to look up at the ascian one last time; he is holding Cirina in his arms, forehead bowed to meet hers. He is saying something, you are sure of it but you cannot hear it.

You just...want to sleep.

  
  
  


-

Damn the Light. Damn the bloody Light and damn Hydaelyn and, most of all, damn  _ yourself  _ for this.

You couldn’t save her. You were a fool to try to. You were a fool to not recognize her, her shattered soul, the 14th and love of your life, Azem, you’ve been searching for millennia for her, to un-sunder her. Make her whole. Lahabrea found Igeyorhm, surely Azem was out there, surely he would know it was her.

‘twas not a trick of the light, this. Only an Ancient could use such creation magics; only one Ancient had that beautiful of a soul in her aether.

As you frantically tried to save her, counter the Light within her you could feel her soul, and feel the pain. Feel the exhaustion, feel how she reaches out for her creations (“Fray” and “Myste” she called them. She was always fond of her creations, like a mother might be). She opens her eyes one last time, the white feathers of a sin eater egg rising up from the ground, and though she can no longer see you, she feels your touch.

She smiles.

The light fades from her eyes, and she breathes her last breath in your arms. Millennia without her touch, without her smile; millennia searching for her and she was right in front of you this entire time  _ and you couldn’t fucking save her. _ What use were you? A sentimental old fool clinging to the memory of a dead lover, searching for her,  **_and you killed her._ **

The ivory feathers trail over her skin like vines, separating you and her lifeless body. They knot together, one on top of the other, wrapping around her like a loving cocoon. She will be beautiful, you know; the most magnificent of sin eaters, poised to destroy, to bring the light to this forsaken world. And if you let her rejoin this world, she will never be whole again.

Lucifer, you will call her. Lightbringer. The Mourning Star. Once the most beautiful of fairies, corrupted by Light, who fell from Eden to bathe the world in it—or so the pixie’s story goes.

You are the only one who will know her name, for you are the only who will end her life.

Azem disappears behind the last feather; curled up as she is, she could almost appear asleep. But her aether is still and stagnant. You know there is nothing left of her except the monster you created. The feathers twine and knot together, pulsing slowly like a fading heartbeat. You can only watch and wait as Azem’s aether within it starts to shift and change, warp and break and crack. You can only watch as the egg finally slows, and slowly, slowly, rips itself apart. You can only watch, numb, as an ivory hand reaches itself out and lands upon your cheek.

By Zodiark, she is magnificent. She glitters like morning frost, her scales gilt with gold. Upon her back, folded along her skin lie 6 golden wings. She pushes herself out of the egg, her other hand stretches out, and she holds your head between them. She turns to you slightly, and though she does not see you through the bandage covering her eyes, shielding her from the horrors of the world--she senses you all the same. She knows you are here, your beloved Azem--and she knows you are here to kill her. She pulls away from you and you briefly find yourself following her, wanting her frozen touch, your beloved Azem. Her wings flutter slowly, then faster, and she rises from the ground; in her right hand appears a grand greatsword, and in her left, a cane enwreathed by a snake.

A Warrior of Light—an Ascian, an Amaurotian,  _ Ancient, _ your beloved Azem transformed into a sin eater overflowing and brimming with Light. Even at your strongest, she would be more than a match for the darkness of Zodiark—and when she slams her cane and her greatsword into the ground, light pulsing outwards and condensing upwards into the shape of her creations, you know you will need help.

You look at the constellation crystals in your hand—these were not meant for you. They were meant for  _ her,  _ to guide her, so that she might learn of his history— _ their _ history. They are but shards of the convocation, but they will be enough.

Hythlodaeus was always the tallest of their trio. Even if he is nothing more than a mere shade now (they are all mere shades, your convocation, Elidibus not even that) he will be enough. You recall to your mind Hythlodaeus’ stature, his smirk and his laugh, and call upon the boundless aether of an unsundered Ascian.

Hythlodaeus is not smiling when he appears before you. He is not jovial, or teasing. Instead he is quiet, eyes fixed upon the monster that is his former friend, and you can sense his sorrow. “Hades…” he says, “what have you done?”

You want to say “what I had to do,” but the words don’t come to you. This was all for her, for Azem, your beloved, to bring her back and here...here she stands.

You look away from Hythlodaeus, to the floating, waiting form of Lucifer. Her two creations stand guard before her; the boy with wings of pure white, a crown of white lillies upon his brow; the living shadow with armor made of ivory and gold.

You grip the shards in your fist. First, Elidibus as he was once, shining silver hair and a eagerness for duty. Next, Lahabrea and Igeyorhm, two halves of a whole. Then, Nabriales and Halmarut, the most cunning of the convocation. And lastly, Emmeroloth, with a nigh-unrivalled ability to weave creation magics.

They are not truly your convocation, of course. But they will do.

You shed your mortal form, bringing the true power of darkness to bear; Hythlodaeus watches you but he has no words for you this time. Only silence. He turns away from you to the living shadow, a sword appearing in his hand that he rests over his neck. The living shadow doesn’t so much as move, waiting.

Elidibus and Emmerololth take positions beside you; Lahabrea, Igeyorhm, Nabriales, and Halmarut form a semi-circle around the boy, still as a statue.

You? You turn your head upon the corrupted form of your former beloved. She gestures her head down to you, waiting. All of them, waiting. They will not make the first move, you realize.

You growl to yourself, summoning the staff of Zodiark into your claws, and you attack.

Immediately, Lucifer zeroes in on you. She is quick, so quick; the wings providing her unparalleled mobility. She swings her greatsword at you; you parry it back; she swings again and cuts slightly at your flesh. You snarl beneath your breath--the first blood goes to her. Beside you you hear the sounds of your Convocation and your friends fighting her creations--Lahabrea in particular is spewing curses. Lucifer draws back and she raises her cane and  _ heals _ the damn things, and you realize this will likely take longer than you expected. Lahabrea’s cut-off “what the fu—” and angered grunt only makes you more certain.

Lucifer dives in again to swipe at you, by Zodiark she is so fast, but you parry her again, pushing her greatsword away so you briefly can can slice at her skin. She shudders; you use the opoortunity to cast a spell upon the wound, infecting her veins with primordial darkness. She shudders again, and you raise your staff to cut at her, and she parries back and flits away from you.

_ “Tedious,” _ you snarl. You hear Hythlodaeus huff mockingly beside you, then a grunt of pain.

She dives, she slices; you cast, you slice. It’s a slow battle of attrition, until abruptly the boy says in a sonorous voice,  _ “in the darkest hour, in your blackest night, think of me, for I will be with you always.” _ Elidibus makes a panicked noise, sensing impending calamity from the boy and heals you; Emmerololth joins it with a shield. The boy stands there, absorbing the Convocation’s attacks, until he rises from the ground, wings fluttering. Lucifer retreats, as does the living shadow; it stands before her, guarding her, the both of them out of reach.

Abruptly, you feel a tug at your aether--at your very life force. It pulls at you, bleeding away slowly, before all at once siphoning it away, leaving you gasping and panting for breath. You are not dead, no, but almost just--and judging by how Hythlodaeus falls to his knees beside you, it has hit everyone. Elidibus groans and curses something, before shakily using his cane to push himself to his feet. He channels his aether through it, and you grunt in appreciation as Elidibus’ and Emmerololth’s healing magics flow through you.

The boy floats there, speaking softly to himself with his hands in prayer, and he begins to summon.

First, a man of simple stature, dark of hair and with an open smile. He falls to a few spells from Igeyorhm. Next, a sylph, shy, and scared. It too, falls. Then, a lalafell--dwarf, what have you--fire and determination in his eyes. He too falls.

The boys opens his eyes. He looks, contemplating; if you didn’t know better, you’d say he were angry, frustrated. He twists his mouth, and his eyes narrow, and his hands clench together in prayer.

From the ground rise two creations (and by the Star how many are there?). Two elves; a woman of icy blue, and a man in shining armor. The man raises his shield, and the woman moves behind; he shouts  _ my shield will not break! _ and from it a barrier of blinding light forms around them. the woman raises her hands to the heavens, and calls out,  _ ‘O Saint Shiva, still the hatred within our hearts and bless us with eternal grace!’ _ as ice begins to form around her. Whatever it is these two are creations are doing, you need to stop it--immediately.

Your allies seem to sense your resolve, frantically targetting the man as ice begins to climb upwards over the woman’s skin. The man winces then grimaces; his defense is flagging and the ice climbs ever-faster, ever more frantic. Soon however, with one last fiery attack from Igeyorhm, he falls; there is a resounding, pained cry from Lucifer, full of anguish. The woman he had shielded looks almost fearful, and she is almost entirely encased in his ice; Lahabrea snarls in anger and his creation (a beautiful phoenix, identical in appearance to the phoenix of so long ago, a hateful, wrahtful thing) lets out a mournful cry, charging at the woman, before self-destructing in a magnificent display of color.

Again does Lucifer cry in anguish, and fury--hatred, even. When you look away from the fading aether of the creations to the sin eater, you see glittering trails of gold down her cheeks. You look to the boy and he too is full of rage, and a deep resounding sorrow as he chants  _ “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” _ He too cries and prays for his creations.

_ “Woe betide the man who stand opposed to the Weapon of Light, for death will be his reward. _

_ Woe betide the man who stands with the Weapon of Light, for death will be his reward. Death to him and his kin and all that he holds dear.” _

The boy descends. The living shadow attacks. And Lucifer--Lucifer turns her fury against you once again.

-

It is a long battle. Dwarn out, exhausting, running on empty by the time the living shadow finally fades into the aether. Lucifer is no longer floating above you; instead of she is weak, equally exhausted. Equally in pain.

So much pain.

You strike the last blow against her, the full might of Zodiark’s darkness brought to bear; her flesh gives beneath your staff, the poison darkness having rendered it soft and almost human. She whines and cries as the darkness of it invades her every vein, her every cell; she whimpers as you rescind your talons from her skin, and she falls. She falls onto her knees, gasping, she is so weak. You dissipate your allies, sparing no concern for Hythlodaeus’ anger at you, and you dissipate your monstrous dark form. The magnificent, beautiful sin eater that was once your wife falls into your arms once again. The light from her begins to escape into the air and her golden wings collapse into flakes of gold. She leans her body against you (her skin no longer marble, now so soft, soft like it used to be) and slowly you move two fingers to pull up the bandage covering Lucifer’s--no,  _ Azem’s _ eyes.

Slowly she opens her eyes, and all you see in them is blue. Blue like the sky the sun and the moon lived in. Blue like they used to be. She smiles at you--she sees you, she knows you, for one second she  _ recognizes  _ you--she reaches out one hand to cover your cheek, and she whispers your name.

_ “Hades,” _ she whispers. You feel wetness on your cheeks, wetness you haven’t felt in millennia--she leans in and she presses her lips against yours in a final kiss. Then, she breathes her last breath, your beloved Azem, in your arms.

You stay there for some time.

-

Elidibus cocks his head at you when you return to the rift. He purses his lips, disgruntled, and asks, “how fares the Rejoining?”

How fares the Rejoining? What is the point? What is the damned  _ point _ of the Rejoining anymore?

Instead of giving him a response, or a retort, or anything substantial you instead say quietly. “I killed Persephone.”

Elidibus finally turns to face you. It’s pointless, you know it is, he doesn’t remember a damned thing you remind yourself but when he says, “what are you talking about?” you simply...collapse.

“I  _ killed _ her, Erebus, you damned fool,” you bite out.

Elidibus scoffs, crossing his arms. “You speak nonsense again.”

You snap. “You don’t even remember your  _ name, _ you fool! I killed  _ Azem! _ Surely you must remember her, surely you must--she was here, all this time, and I--I  _ killed _ her. I killed her so that she may one day be whole and I—” your shoulders are shaking under your grief, even if in this space you cannot mourn your beloved. She was here all along, and you watched the light go out from her eyes as you held her in your arms.

Elidibus scoffs again. “Our fourteenth member, traitor to the cause. Inconsequential. There is still much work to be done, Rejoinings to be made.” Elidibus scowls. “Go rest or...whatever it is you do, Emet-Selch,” Zodiark above he doesn’t remember  _ your _ real name either; merely a shadow of who he once was, the eager youth, “I will call you when you are needed.” Elidibus chants to himself and vanishes, leaving you in the rift.

All alone, with no one to watch or judge or console, you cover your eyes and you weep empty tears.

**Author's Note:**

> lucifer's boss mechanics that i scribbled down:
> 
> tanks: hyth (gnb) and emet  
> healers: eli, emmerololth  
> dps: lahabrea, igeyorhm, nabriales, halmarut  
> fray is “forgiven wrath”  
> myste is “forgiven despair”
> 
> mechs: hyth takes fray, emet takes lucifer, dps take myste (like the trees in titania). hades will use a dot on lucifer whose flavor text is that it is continuously poisoning her with darkness. eventually when on low hp fray uses LD and ciri will bene him if not interrupted, wiping the party. lucifer occasionally will heal fray, fray occasionally uses TBN on myste. raidwide is myste stealing half of everyone’s hp--MAX hp, not current--to create simulcra (more adds!). the simulcra summoned are first the nameless doman trader, then noraxia, papalymo, then haurch and ysayle at the same time. ysayle and haurch pull an omega-m/f where haurch forms a pld-esque barrier around ysayle while ysayle readies diamond dust
> 
> appearance: alabaster skin, gold scales, six gold wings similar in design to bahamuts, 3 on each side. a greatsword in her right hand, a staff in her left. she auto-attacks with the greatsword and heals fray and myste with the left. very annoying.


End file.
